ACT 1
Scene 1

...to the court.
Enter Queen Margaret, with Prince Edward.

...begin to exit.
Nay, go not from me. I will follow thee.

...I will stay.
Who can be patient in such extremes?
Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid
And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father.
Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus?
Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
Or nourished him as I did with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir
And disinherited thine only son.

...Duke enforced me.
Enforced thee? Art thou king and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch,
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And giv’n unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance!
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it but to make thy sepulcher
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Callice;
Stern Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas;
The Duke is made Protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds
The trembling lamb environèd with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honor.
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of Parliament be repealed
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colors
Will follow mine if once they see them spread;
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee.—Come, son, let’s away.
Our army is ready. Come, we’ll after them.

...hear me speak.
Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.

...stay with me?
Ay, to be murdered by his enemies!

...I’ll follow her.
Come, son, away. We may not linger thus.
Queen Margaret and Prince Edward exit.

Scene 4

...life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince Edward, and Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.

...two for one.
Hold, valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes
I would prolong a while the traitor’s life.—
Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.

...unto him now?
Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here
That raught at mountains with outstretchèd arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.

They place York on a small prominence.
What, was it you that would be England’s king?
Was ’t you that reveled in our parliament
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now,
The wanton Edward and the lusty George?
And where’s that valiant crookback prodigy,
Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point
Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. She gives him a bloody cloth.
Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee grieve to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death?
Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
Thou would’st be fee’d, I see, to make me sport.—
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York!She is handed a paper crown.
And, lords, bow low to him.
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. She puts the crown on York’s head.
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king.
Ay, this is he that took King Henry’s chair,
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?—
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
And will you pale your head in Henry’s glory
And rob his temples of the diadem
Now, in his life, against your holy oath?
O, ’tis a fault too too unpardonable.
Off with the crown and, with the crown, his head;
And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.

...my father’s sake.
Nay, stay, let’s hear the orisons he makes.

...the blood away.
He hands her the cloth.

...a piteous deed.”
He hands her the paper crown.

...gripes his soul.
What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.

...my father’s death!
stabbing York
And here’s to right our gentle-hearted king.

...Thee. He dies.
Off with his head, and set it on York gates,
So York may overlook the town of York.
Flourish. They exit, Soldiers carrying York’s body.

ACT 2
Scene 2

...warriors, let’s away!
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, all wearing the red rose with Drum and Trumpets, the head of York fixed above them.
to King Henry
Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompassed with your crown.
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

...head is here.
My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh,
And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
You promised knighthood to our forward son.
Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently.—
Edward, kneel down.

...you are absent.
Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.

...of the field?
Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy.
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?

...yield the crown?
Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak?
When you and I met at Saint Albans last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.

...me speak.
Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.

...thy mother’s tongue.
But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam,
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,
Marked by the Destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.

...else a grave!
Stay, Edward!

...lives this day.
They all exit.

Scene 5

...than you are.
Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Exeter, all wearing the red rose.

...us in pursuit.
Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain.
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath
And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain.

...intends. Forward, away!
They exit.

ACT 3
Scene 3

...pluck it down.
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French king, his sister the Lady Bona, his Admiral called Bourbon, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford, the last three wearing the red rose.

... doth sit.
No, mighty King of France. Now Margaret
Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve
Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion’s queen in former golden days,
But now mischance hath trod my title down
And with dishonor laid me on the ground,
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune
And to my humble seat conform myself.

...deep despair?
From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears
And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.

...by our side.
Seats her by him.

...can yield relief.
Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is, of a king, become a banished man
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;
While proud ambitious Edward, Duke of York,
Usurps the regal title and the seat
Of England’s true-anointed lawful king.
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry’s heir,
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done.
Scotland hath will to help but cannot help;
Our people and our peers are both misled,
Our treasure seized, our soldiers put to flight,
And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.

...break it off.
The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

...I’ll succor thee.
O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.

Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.

...to our presence?
Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.

...thee to France?
He descends. She ariseth.
aside
Ay, now begins a second storm to rise,
For this is he that moves both wind and tide.

...in lawful marriage.
aside
If that go forward, Henry’s hope is done.

...and thy virtue.
King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak
Before you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward’s well-meant honest love,
But from deceit, bred by necessity;
For how can tyrants safely govern home
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?
To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice:
That Henry liveth still; but were he dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry’s son.
Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonor;
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet heav’ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.

...conference with Warwick.
They stand aloof.
aside
Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him not.

...the English king.
Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device
By this alliance to make void my suit.
Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry’s friend.

...him than France.
Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick,
Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings!
I will not hence till with my talk and tears,
Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold
Thy sly conveyance and thy lord’s false love,
For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.

...I know not.
They all read their letters.

...yours, fair queen?
Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.

...in this manner?
I told your Majesty as much before.
This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.

...his former state.
Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love,
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.

...this distressèd queen?
Renownèd prince, how shall poor Henry live
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

...shall have aid.
Let me give humble thanks for all, at once.

...for his sake.
Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside
And I am ready to put armor on.

...holy wedlock bands.
Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion.
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous.
Therefore, delay not; give thy hand to Warwick,
And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.

...dame of France.
All but Warwick exit.

ACT 5
Scene 4

...“Courage!” and away.
Flourish. March. Enter Queen Margaret, young Prince Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.
Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallowed in the flood?
Yet lives our pilot still. Is ’t meet that he
Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad,
With tearful eyes add water to the sea
And give more strength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have saved?
Ah, what a shame, ah, what a fault were this!
Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
And Montague our topmast; what of him?
Our slaughtered friends the tackles; what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
And, though unskillful, why not Ned and I
For once allowed the skillful pilot’s charge?
We will not from the helm to sit and weep,
But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack.
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock—
All these the enemies to our poor bark?
Say you can swim: alas, ’tis but awhile;
Tread on the sand: why, there you quickly sink;
Bestride the rock: the tide will wash you off
Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
If case some one of you would fly from us,
That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
Why, courage then! What cannot be avoided
’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.

...and wondered at.
Thanks, gentle Somerset.—Sweet Oxford, thanks.

...are in readiness.
This cheers my heart to see your forwardness.

...to it, lords!
to her army
Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say
My tears gainsay, for every word I speak
You see I drink the water of my eye.
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurped,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancelled and his treasure spent,
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice. Then, in God’s name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight!
They exit.

Scene 5
Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard, and Clarence, all wearing the white rose, with Soldiers guarding Queen Margaret, Oxford, and Somerset, all wearing the red rose, prisoners.

...to my fortune.
So part we sadly in this troublous world
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

...me answer to.
Ah, that thy father had been so resolved!

...for that word.
Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.

...Clarence stabs him.
O, kill me too!

...world with words?
Queen Margaret faints.

...for her recovery.
They attempt to revive her.

...Tower, the Tower!
rising from her swoon
O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy.
Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers!
They that stabbed Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect, a child,
And men ne’er spend their fury on a child.
What’s worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak,
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals,
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped!
You have no children, butchers. If you had,
The thought of them would have stirred up remorse.
But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince.

...her hence perforce.
Nay, never bear me hence! Dispatch me here.
Here sheathe thy sword; I’ll pardon thee my death.
What, wilt thou not?—Then, Clarence, do it thou.

...so much ease.
Good Clarence, do! Sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

...not do it?
Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself.
’Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity.
What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher, Richard,
Hard-favored Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne’er putt’st back.

...her hence.
So come to you and yours as to this prince!
Queen Margaret exits under guard. Soldiers carry off Prince Edward’s body.